A Night to Remember
by PetiteCafe
Summary: 10Rose. The Doctor takes Rose to the best restaurant in the universe...and what's with the bubble bath? AU, no Doomsday, drabblefluff. Rated T for later chapters. Finished! Also up on A Teaspoon and An Open Mind with the missing scene from Chapter 7.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I modeled this little drabble fic after mine own Perfect Night. Everybody gets one eventually...and things didn't work out in the end, but it was a beautiful night...the kind that belongs in a story more than it does in real life. I figured that the Doctor and Rose could have the happy ending for me. :) Thanks muchly to Jenni, a.k.a morethanwords, for her "Ecstasia" fic, which reminded me of the little set of memories that are behind this fic.

Disclamer: I don't own Doctor Who, or any of its characters or other stuff. Le sigh.

* * *

The door to the TARDIS opened, and the Doctor looked up from the control panel he'd been tinkering with. A smile blossomed onto his features as Rose stepped in, her arms laden with groceries.

"You bought bananas, right?"

"Course. I wouldn't forget those! And I got the bubble bath you asked for, too."

"Good. Because, Rose Tyler - " the Doctor's eyes narrowed - "I have a surprise for you."

"Surprise, huh? What've you come up with this time that's going to almost get us killed?"

"Nothing, unless you happen to be allergic to garlic."

"Garlic?"

"Uh-uh," and the Doctor firmly tapped his finger against his lips. "No more information for you, young lady. My lips are sealed."

"Should I alert the the press? That's quite an event, after all."

The Doctor straightened his tie with dignity. "That won't be necessary, Miss Cheeky. However, should you feel inclined to go make tea..."

Rose was already halfway down the hall by the time he finished the sentence. Grinning, the Doctor turned back to the TARDIS controls, setting them for the upcoming flight. As he pulled levers and flicked switches, his thoughts fluttered towards - and shied away from - the concept that he was taking Rose on something suspiciously like a date. _Date? Nah. Just dinner, and then some other things...not remotely a date. Nope. Way too domestic for this old chap. Besides, we're due for a break, and I haven't been to Viande in a long time. _

He didn't even stoop to consider the possibility that he was rationalizing. Time Lords, after all, didn't rationalize.

* * *

"Dress nice," he had said.

Well, she was definitely obliging him.

Rose stood before her mirror, admiring the look of the sleekly tailored grey culotte pants hanging low on her hips. Coupled with high-heeled black leather boots, her legs looked a mile long. She'd squeezed herself into a simple V-necked white top that plunged dangerously low, and pulled her hair back from her face with two black barrettes.

"Looks good, Tyler," she mumbled, pivoting on one heel to check out the back view.

"Rose?" The sound of her name was accompanied by a knocking on the door. "Rose, are you almost ready? What are you _doing_ in there? Can I come in?"

"Yes, dressing, and yes, in that order."

There was an audible rustling on the other side of the door, and Rose would've bet the entire contents of her makeup drawer that the Doctor was pulling his hands from his pockets, and counting off his questions - and her corresponding answers - on his fingers.

The rustling stopped, the door opened, and the Doctor stepped in, letting out a low whistle. "Very nice!"

Rose blushed. He didn't usually say things like that, and it threw her off a bit. "Um...uh, thank you, Doctor. Should we go?"

* * *

He had refused to tell her where - or when - they were going, and so Rose gasped as they exited the TARDIS hand-in-hand. It was evening, just before sunset, and the stars were already glowing in the highest part of the sky.

It looked like Earth, and Rose said so.

"Ah, almost. Very similar planet to Earth, this, and similar inhabitants. What makes this planet distinct is its appreciation for food: the best chefs in the entire universe come from here. They embrace off-world cuisine and incorporate it into their own style of cooking. Marvelous, isn't it? All these combinations of proteins and fats and phytochemicals into something that - " he smacked his lips " - delights the mouth. Not to mention the stomach, the liver, the..."

"Doctor," Rose interrupted, sensing the beginning of another lecture, "_where_ are we going?"

"Dinner at my favorite restaurant in the universe, of course," he answered, surprised. "Where else?"

* * *

They strolled along the street lined with flaming torches, passing among natives of the planet, who seemed indistinguishable from humans in appearance. Rose resolved to ask the Doctor about it over dinner, but for now, she was content to walk along in quiet. How often, after all, did they _get_ to just walk? As opposed to running for their lives...

The Doctor pulled her towards a pair of green double doors set back from the sidewalk, with a faded sign over them that Rose couldn't read. "Here we are! Prepare to be amazed, Rose!"

* * *

And she was.

If nothing else, the simple elegance and charm of the restaurant was amazing. As far as Rose could see, all of the tables were two-person, covered in white cloths and set with silver, china and crystal. Candles were everywhere: on the tables themselves, in sconces on the wall, and hanging from the ceiling in elaborate chandeliers. Divine smells escaped from covered plates as waitstaff moved past them, and Rose's mouth watered.

The Doctor was looking at her sideways, a faint "I-told-you-so" smile on his face. "See?"

"It's beautiful," she murmured, feeling like she should whisper amidst the muted conversations.

"Thought you'd like it," he replied, and in truth, the Doctor did look very pleased with himself. "You haven't seen the best part yet...now where's that host?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did. The end.

Rose caught her breath again as the host led them outdoors, into the warm spring evening. The temperature was just right: not too hot and not too cool, but ideal for eating outside. And seeing the patio, she suspected that the Doctor had picked this time of year for a reason.

The patio was a semi-circular terrace of several levels. On each level were two tables, one at each end, and in the middle of the terraces, encompassing all the levels, was a fantastic rock and water garden, with flowing waterfalls and lights at various places underwater. More candles were placed in glass globes along the edges of the terraces.

Rose shook her head as the host escorted them down to an empty table on one of the lower levels. "I've never seen anything this beautiful," she murmured to the Doctor. "How many candles do they _have?_"

"Two thousand, four hundred and fifty-two," the host answered proudly. She was young and perky and kept glancing at the Doctor, Rose noted sourly. "It takes almost an hour just to light them all! And that's with three people doing the lighting!"

"Very impressive." The Doctor was pulling out a chair, and Rose seated herself, smiling at him over her shoulder. He really was being charming tonight, she thought.

The host opened a menu and handed it to Rose, as the Doctor sat opposite her and accepted his own menu. "You know..." said the host, almost shyly, "I just took my exams to be admitted to chef school today."

"Is that so?" The Doctor looked up politely, shooting a long-suffering glance across the table at Rose, who immediately stifled a giggle. "Well, good luck! So, Rose...we'll go for a bottle of wine, of course..." And he buried his head in the wine list.

The host's face fell, and Rose nearly burst out laughing. She couldn't be more than sixteen, and she was unknowingly flirting with a 900-year old alien..._Let's just ignore, for the moment, some of the thoughts that this nineteen-year old has had about that same alien. Besides - three years makes a lot of difference!_

She returned her attention to the Doctor, who had placed his finger on the wine list with an air of supreme concentration, and was looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you want to start with white or red? Or green, come to think of it, they do have a nice green wine here. No? All right, white then, for the first course...well, on second thought, perhaps we should just drink by the glass, we'd be able to...no...hmmm."

"Doctor?" Rose interrupted calmly.

"Yes Rose?" He looked up, a manic glint in one eye.

"I trust you to pick something that we'll both like," she stated.

"Ah. Well, that's good to know. I mean, that you trust me. I think I knew that, already, come to think of it...come to think of thinking, now there's a quandary. If you think you think of something, then..."

"Shall we start with thinking about the wine?"

"Yes. Wine! Right. Grape juice, fermented and stored in barrels for various lengths of time. Rose, did you know that fermentation is caused by..."

"...by dying of thirst!" she finished.

The Doctor looked across the table at her, and realized that he'd been nattering on like an idiot. "Ah. Right, then."

Once the first bottle - a white, in the end - had been ordered from a very obliging waitperson, Rose turned her attention to the menu. "Is there anything dangerous for me?"

"Do you see anything with a red star by it?"

"A couple of things."

"Those aren't good for you, then. The menu's a very interesting little piece of technology, Rose - they've got its sensors calibrated to pick up on the species of the holder, and automatically compute what on the menu would be physiologically dangerous for it to eat. Marvelous invention, really."

"Does it even work for you? With you being the Last Time Lord, and all that."

"Er...well, it makes a good guess." He looked uncomfortable, and Rose mentally kicked herself for bringing up a subject that didn't belong at a nice, more-than-vaguely-romantic dinner.

"Well good, then. Wouldn't want you keeling over in the soup!"

"Oh, right, the soup! They have delicious soup here. I hope you're hungry, because I like to do it right, here - five course meal with the works."

"Five courses?" Rose raised her eyebrows. "I think I need a stomach like your pockets!"

"Small portions, Rose. So...for an appetizer..."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I love food. I work in a nice restaurant as the bar manager and the unofficial sommelier, so I LOVE good food and wine. So, I apologize if I go a bit overboard on descriptions; I've tried to restrain myself! And also, thanks to my lovely reviewers! This chapter wound up being a bit short, but I should be posting another later today. The advantage of writing from memory is that the inspiration is all there already! Love, -PC_

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything from Doctor Who, don't you think I'd be doing something a lot more exciting than drinking coffee and writing fanfic? Honestly, you people.**

* * *

The appetizer turned out to be small ovals of a cheesy stuffing, mixed with some kind of leaf, and wrapped around with sheets of pasta. The little rolls were served on a bed of a red sauce, which was better than any marinara Rose had ever tasted.

"It looks kind of like sushi," she observed.

"On Earth they'd probably call this a roulade. Goes well with the wine, yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." Reminded by his words, Rose lifted her glass, savoring the crisp white wine, pleasantly lemony and tart on her tongue. "I'm glad there aren't too many of them; I could just eat these for dinner."

"And that'd be a waste of a trip! You simply can't try just one thing when you come here."

"You've ensured that." They had given their entire order to the waitperson, with the exception of dessert, and Rose had relied heavily on the Doctor's advice. He'd ordered their shared courses of appetizer, soup and salad, but she'd picked her own entree. Well...sort of.

After they'd mopped up every last bit of sauce with thick chunks of soft, hot bread, the server cleared their plates and replaced their silverware, setting down a small silver soup tureen in the middle of the table, along with bowls at each place.

After the server had gone, the Doctor leaned over his full bowl and inhaled the steam with a sigh. "This is quite possibly my fourth favorite smell in the entire universe."

Rose smelled her own soup. She detected the odor of garlic, along with some sort of spicy meat. It was, she had to admit, heavenly. "So you always get the same soup?" she teased.

The Doctor's reply was delayed momentarily, as his mouth was full. Once he'd swallowed, he answered. "Not always. I sometimes get something else...but I always take some of this soup to go."

"I meant to ask..." Rose dipped her spoon into her bowl. "Everyone here looks just like a human. Not even any weird hair colors or anything. What's the difference?"

"Ah, yes. Mostly the difference is in the senses, taste and smell being the largest, as you'd expect on a planet where everyone loves food so much. You think everything tastes good to us...well, imagine having that multiplied ten times in terms of flavor complexity and nuance. Humans have four basic tastes: sweet, sour, bitter and salty. These people - the Vianden - have at least fifteen that they've identified. And of course, smell compliments taste, so that sense is also heightened. You've cooked, so think about trying to balance fifteen difference elemental flavors, instead of four."

Rose tasted the soup again, and tried to imagine detecting other tastes besides the sweet spice of the meat, the salt of the broth, the sourness of the garlic, and the bitterness of the greens. "I guess when you reduce it down, you're right - everything does, in the end, wind up as one of those basic tastes."

"Exactly." He beamed. "It makes one very curious as to how they evolved. The Vianden, I mean."

"Their ancestors probably had your oral fixation. Honestly, you and licking everything..."

_Oral fixation. Licking. Damn._ With all their talk about tastes, the Doctor had been trying very, very hard to block out his memories - which were clamoring very loudly - of Rose's taste. The samples he'd had, of course...salty tears. Sweet cherry lip gloss. Sour...

"What?" He looked up to see Rose staring at him.

She smiled, and lifted the wine bottle. "It's empty, Doctor. Should we order another one?"

* * *

Two hours later, they exited the restaurant. Rose was clinging to the Doctor's arm carefully; she wasn't drunk, but definitely tipsy. And no wonder...after the first bottle of wine, there had been a second, and then coffees and liquers with dessert.

She rubbed her free hand across her stomach as they strolled back to the TARDIS. Said stomach felt very full and content. Said owner did also. "What's next, Doctor?"

"Oh? And why do you assume there's going to be something "next"?"

"You wouldn't have had me make sure to get bubble bath today unless it was for a reason. The bananas, maybe, but not the bubble bath. So what's next?"

"Your logic is impeccable." He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, and she giggled, her hold tightening on his arm as he upset her balance. "But as for your answer, you'll have to wait till we get back to the ship. And then I'll need a few minutes to get things ready."

"S'OK. I'll put your soup away in the kitchen...assuming that I can find room for eight gallons of the stuff..."

"Just put it in the..." He stopped, slamming the heel of his hand against his forehead. Rose looked up at him, concerned.

"Doctor? What is it?"

"Fardles, I forgot the soup!"


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: And we keep going, and going...and now, the long-awaited, AMAZING, u r 2 KEWL d00d, only on sale today, never-before-seen, ub3r 3l337,_ _BUBBLE BATH! Mwahahaha. Also, there's a bit of a continuity error in chapter 3, as I forgot to do the math for Rose's age. Oops! Will fix soon. Love,-PC_

* * *

After completely rearranging the refrigerator (_why_ didn't they have one that was bigger on the inside?), Rose had finally managed to stow all eight gallons of the Doctor's takeout soup. She rose from the floor and grimaced as her stomach rumbled; it was a bit off after the mad dash the Doctor had insisted they make, once he'd realized he'd left the soup at the restaurant.

She rooted through the fridge again, finding a can of ginger ale and popping the top. Even after just a few small sips, she felt her tummy begin to settle down. _Much better._

Carrying the ginger ale, she strolled slowly to the control room, having absolutely no idea where the Doctor was in the TARDIS. He'd dashed off the moment they'd gotten back, admonishing her that she was "on no account, for any reason whatsoever short of imminent death, and then only if the margin is less than one minute, to follow me. And even if that happens, give us a shout before you barge in, will you?"

She leaned up against one of the railings, loosely holding the can of ginger ale in one hand, and allowed contentment to sweep over her. Her stomach was full, and she was warm and comfortable, pleasantly tipsy..._mmmm..._

"Rose?"

She opened her eyes, which had somehow drifted closed, and found herself greeted by the sight of the Doctor peering quizzically at her.

"Mmph? Oh...sorry...must've dozed off a bit."

He reached out and gathered her into a hug, and she snuggled into his warmth, still just a bit sleepy. "You know," he began, "we don't have to finish the surprise tonight, if you're too tired..."

"What? No way! Not after I hunted for the "best-smelling bubble bath in London" all day, thank you! I want to know what you've been planning, Doctor." For emphasis, she squeezed him tighter.

The Doctor smiled, resting his cheek on her hair, breathing in the fruity scent of her shampoo and firmly resisting the urge to swipe his tongue across her scalp. _Can't blame me - it smells so...tasty..._

He shook himself to dispel the thoughts, and, realizing that he was still hugging Rose, quickly turned it into swinging her back and forth. She looked up at him, amused. "Well, are you going to show me or not?"

"Show you?" He pretended ignorance. "Oh, right! The bubble bath."

* * *

"Why didn't you TELL ME we had this room?!"

She'd been traveling with him for over two years, as she reckoned things, and she'd never known that they had a bathroom this sumptuous. The walls were green marble, veined in blues and purples, and the floor was a grey slate that felt warm to the touch. And in the center of the room was The Bath.

The Bath deserved capital letters, as it looked to fit about eight people in it, with plenty of room to move around. The water was invisible, due to the huge heaps of strawberry-vanilla bubble bath poofing above the edges of the tub like giant waves of whipped cream. Rose watched the gentle ripples of the bubbles, and guessed that beneath them were jets, like a Jacuzzi.

The Doctor stood to one side of the tub, his hands self-consciously in his suit pockets. "Well, to be fair, we really didn't, until about three days ago."

"You..." She looked around: at the marble walls, the giant Bath, the huge fluffy towels hanging on brass rods. "You made this? For me?"

"Me too, you know. I enjoy a good bath as much as the next bloke. Not that most will ever admit it. So you like it?"

"_Like_ it? I love it! I'll be in here every night now!" She ran across the short distance separating them, and threw her arms around his neck, feeling her feet swing as he lifted her up against him. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

He was grinning like a maniac, his cheeks so stretched that they were in danger of splitting open. "I'm glad."

Gently, he put her down, resisting the urge to keep holding her close. "Go change and let's have a soak."

* * *

The Doctor, in blue swim trunks that were thin, light, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Rose relaxed back into the water, wiggling slightly to get the full blast of a water jet on her lower back, and thought that she could die happy now.

To be fair, she really wasn't getting much of a look, as most of the Doctor, and herself, was hidden beneath the mounds of bubble bath. All she was able to ogle was the upper third of his bare chest, slender but well-muscled...

_Down, girl._

For his part, the Doctor was mentally cursing his decision to dump the entire bottle of bubble bath into the water. True, it did make the whole place smell fantastic. And true, they'd been in long enough that the bubbles were beginning to dissipate, but _come on!_ He completely ignored the fact that he shouldn't even really be looking, and instead, grumpily monologued internally about not being able to see anything below Rose's neck.

He was startled from his grump by a long toe, complete with pink-painted nail, poking him in the chest. "Doctor?"

"Ahuh?"

"I was thinking...shall we play a game?"

"A game? What kind of game? Marco Polo?"

"How do you know about Marco Polo?"

The Doctor smirked at her. "I'm 900 years old, Rose. I'm familiar with games on hundreds, _thousands_, of different worlds, and I'll have you know that I am a bona fide _expert_ at Marco Polo."

"Good thing I wasn't going to suggest Marco Polo, then."

"Good thing," he nodded. "It's boring to win all the time."

"I thought we could play the Question Game."

"Question Game?" The Doctor frowned, wrinkling his brow. "Don't know that one. How's it played?"

"It's simple. One of us asks a question, and we both answer it. And then we just take turns asking, until...well, until we get bored, I guess."

"Sounds fun," he said dryly, rolling his eyes. Rose poked him again, leaving her foot on his chest this time. "All right! We'll play."

"Good. I'll start. What's your favorite color?"

"Ah...well, this regeneration, it's brown, probably."

"Does it change?"

"Sure. Last time it was black. Got to pick something that goes with the new face and body, after all. And when I was in my sixth regeneration, I didn't have a favorite color, but I was all about patterns. Tends to change with the personality, you see? Now it's your turn."

"Mine's easy. Pink. Seems like I have to, with the name. Your turn."

"Oh...my turn to ask?"

"Yep. That's how the game's played, after all."

"All right, well...hmm...question. Um..."

It was right about then, as he was racking his brain for something innocuous to ask, that he noticed the bubbles had collapsed enough for him to have a very nice view, indeed. Specifically, a very nice view of Miss Rose Tyler's cleavage, created by two small triangles of blue fabric that she'd claimed was a bathing suit. _Bathing suit? Pocket handkerchief, in my book. Not that I'm complaining. Oh, no. This is me, not complaining._

"Where's your favorite place to be touched?" _Did that just come out of my mouth?_

Rose's head shot up and she stared at him with wide eyes. _"What?" _

He was wondering the same thing.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: At least I didn't make you wait long to find out her answer! And much thanks again to all my reviewers...every review, even if it's just one or two sentences, puts a smile on my face. Love, -PC_

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Doctor. If I did, I'd be spending a lot more evenings running for my life. And other stuff too.**

* * *

_Think, Doctor, think. Best thing to do...brush it off. Yes! Don't act flustered, act perfectly serious. You were just curious. That's it._

He shrugged. "What's your favorite place to be touched? I didn't think it was that hard a question..."

Now Rose was the one who was flustered. Stalling for time, her gaze traveled down the length of her leg, to where it emerged from the bubbles and her foot planted on the Doctor's chest. She watched as his hand reached up and neatly removed her foot...yet instead of dropping it back into the water, he cradled it between both palms and began idly rubbing the sole.

Rose loved foot massages. Her head instantly fell back against the wall of The Bath, and a low moan escaped her lips. This was one sure way to turn her into putty.

"Rose..."

"Huh?" Her eyes opened. The Doctor was still holding her foot, his fingers pushing between her toes. It almost tickled...but not quite. It did, however, feel very, very good.

"You didn't answer my question yet."

His voice had for some reason gone all low and sultry. One eyebrow was quirked, and there was a very smug smile on his face.

He _knew _what he was doing to her, the bastard! Now she was determined to have some payback. She'd break that calm smugness if it was the death of her.

"Apart from the obvious?"

"The obvious?"

"Well, you know...the _obvious_."

She fluttered a hand towards her chest, letting the tips of her fingers rest oh-so-briefly on one curve. It did not escape her notice how the Doctor's eyes locked on her hand, and even when she stopped moving, it took him a noticeable effort to tear his gaze away. _Got 'im._

"Err..." He coughed. "Yes. Apart from the obvious."

"Well...I guess it'd have to be my neck. There's something about little light touches or kisses on my neck that just drives me mad."

The Doctor was instantaneously plunged into a fantasy of twisting Rose's hair up out of the way and spending a goodly length of time planting those light kisses..._Mad, huh? Let's see just how long it takes for insanity via tactile stimulation to descend. It'd be a worthwhile experiment..._

"Doctor?"

"Huh?" He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

"Your turn to answer," she prodded him.

He had completely left this out of his calculations. "Ah. Right. Other foot now, there's a girl."

Rose obediently switched her legs, pulling the left out of the water and sliding the right back under. As he began to massage her left foot, the Doctor mulled over his answer to the question, entertaining himself by making exaggerated facial expressions as he thought.

"Doctor!" Rose rolled her eyes and leaned over, lightly punching him in the shoulder.

"What? I'm thinking!"

"Think faster!"

"I thought you said there wasn't any real goal to this game? That we can play as long as we want, right? So logically, there's no time limit on how long one question can take..." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she had to laugh.

"All right, then. My favorite place to be touched...apart from the obvious...is my hands." He briefly removed one hand from her foot, and wiggled his fingers at her. "Bet you could've figured that out, though."

"You and your hand-holding, yeah, should have been obvious. But why there, though?"

"Is that your next question?"

"Think of it like a follow-up." She glared at him, daring him to fight her, and he laughed, returning to his massaging.

"Well...the hands are very sensitive. Most species have a high nerve concentration in some kind of appendage, you know. Plus, let's not overlook the intimacy factor."

"Intimacy factor?"

"Think about how much you use your hands in a day, and think about how different your life would be if you lost them, or if they didn't work any more. Giving your hand to someone else is a pretty big act of trust, in my book."

With this admission, a great number of things he'd said over the past two years took on whole new meanings. Rose wasn't ready to deal with that; not tonight. Instead, she said lightly, "Bet you would've been right pissed then if that Sycorax had cut your hand off for good."

"Pissed doesn't even begin to describe it."

* * *

They played for another half-hour or so, at which point Rose observed that both of them were beginning to resemble prunes. "Hey, why isn't the water getting cold?"

"Oh, you just noticed?" The Doctor grinned, exceedingly pleased with himself. "When I had the TARDIS create The Bath, I installed heating elements in the tub itself. Shame you humans haven't figured that one out yet - it's dead easy."

She rolled her eyes at yet another reference to the limitations of her race of "apes", and climbed out of the tub. Pausing to brush the bubbles off herself and fling them back into the water, she grinned to herself. _Might as well give him a proper look. _

And he was certainly looking. The Doctor reclined back against the tub wall and watched through narrowed eyes, totally unashamed of himself for once, as Rose languorously swept her hands over her skin, shucking off the last remaining bubbles. He watched as she sauntered over to the wall and grabbed one of the fluffy towels that were the size of a small country, wrapping it around herself like a miniature cloud. And he smiled.

"What'cha smiling at, Doctor?"

"You."

She hadn't expected the honest answer. Some flippant remark, or even more likely, a totally random thought that had been drifting through his head at that precise moment. Possibly even a stammer and a vain, vague attempt to cover up that he'd been watching. But not honesty. And she didn't know how to answer.

Her cheeks flamed, and she pushed a lock of damp hair back from her face. "Well...I have to say that this has been a wonderful evening, Doctor..."

"What makes you think it's over?"

"Oh...um...it's not?"

"Nope."

"Well then, what's next?"

He grinned, and levered himself out of the tub, fully aware that his trunks were clinging to him like a second skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rose's startled expression, and her mouth forming an "O" of surprise. _Point for me._

"Toss me a towel, would you?" He caught it in the air, and began drying his hair, peeping out of the folds of the towel with a devilish expression.

"Next is...banana daiquiris! And a movie, of course. Better go put on some comfy pajamas..."

Rose grinned. "Meet you in the living room?"


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: It was hard to write this chapter, so I'm sorry for the delay. I'm thinking probably two more chapters after this one...but you all know what happens with a good story, it usually has a mind of its own. And just for the record...I DID actually make the Pajama Choice that night! That portion of the story is 100 accurate. I'll let you all keep wondering as to what else is true - enjoy! -Love, PC. _

* * *

Rose stood before the dresser, debating.

On one hand, there was her favorite pair of pajamas. They happened to be many years old, baggy, made entirely of flannel, and worn out in the bum. And super-comfy.

On the other hand...there were the White Pajamas. A silky little T-shirt and pair of pants, nearly see-through. She might have worn them twice ever.

Rose frowned. The evening had already been nudging at the boundaries of her and the Doctor's relationship. A simple thing like the choice of her pajamas could have very far-reaching implications.

If she chose flannel and safety...things would be safe. She would be able to snuggle up with the Doctor during the movie, and hug him goodnight, and go to her bed alone. Alone, but safe.

If she chose silk and upheaval...there was no telling what could happen.

Rose grabbed a handful of fabric out of the drawer, and began to change.

* * *

"Sorry that took me forever, the blender was being very - guh."

The Doctor stopped dead in the doorway. His eyes were nearly popping out of his head at the sight of Rose sprawled on the couch, covered - if that was the word - in white silk that outlined her curves. She grinned up at him through a mess of half-dried blonde hair.

"Something wrong, Doctor?"

"Guh," he managed again, then shook his head rapidly. "What? No! Nothing at all. I was just saying that the, um, blender, was being very difficult. However...I have triumphed!" He held aloft the two glasses of frozen yellow slush he carried - presumably, the banana daiquiris.

"So what are we watching, then?"

"Hmmm. Hadn't thought that far ahead, tell you the truth." He grinned, shrugging and lifting his eyebrows. "You've found me out! My great plan, just a fraud really."

"How bout that movie about the zombies?"

He rolled his eyes, glancing towards the movie rack, which was _amply_ stocked with zombie movies. "Rose. We have, literally, _hundreds_ of zombie movies. Be a little more specific, love?"

"The one with the...um...the electric fence."

"Narrows it down."

"And the underwater spy base."

"Narrows it down."

"And the zombies are actually aliens that look like carrots."

"Narrows it down."

"And the bloke what looks like Colin Firth with a better haircut."

"Ah-ha! That one!"

With a flourish, the Doctor reached for the movie rack and extracted a plastic case, labeled on the front in big, white, creepy-looking letters: _Night of the Beta-Carotenes._

"A B-movie if there ever was one," he pronounced.

* * *

After a mad dash back to the kitchen, claiming a need for popcorn, Rose settled back down on the couch. While she'd been gone, the Doctor had started the movie, but paused it before the previews began.

There was, after all, a ritual to these things.

Rose settled down next to the Doctor on the couch. He was clad in brown flannel pajamas, which bore a startling resemblance to his normal suit, and a fuzzy brown bathrobe, which bore a startling resemblance to his normal coat. He grinned cheekily at her. "Wotcha doing all the way over there?"

Rose looked down. Sure enough, there was about two feet of space between her and the Doctor. "Er..."

"I'm never going to get any popcorn if you sit that far away." He lifted an arm, inviting her to scoot closer. "Over here - that's it."

She bit her bottom lip, offering a shy smile, and obediently closed the two feet of distance between them. She wound up leaning against the right side of the Doctor's chest, his right arm tucked securely between her and the couch, and wrapped around her waist, keeping her firmly against him. Which put his left arm in a perfect position to...

"Oi!" she screeched, as he nimbly extracted a handful of popcorn from the giant bowl she'd rested on her lap. "Movie hasn't even started yet!"

"All the more reason. Want a blanket?"

"Yeah, all right."

He removed his arm from her waist momentarily to twitch the blanket off the back of the couch, bringing it down to cover Rose from waist to feet. "Good?"

"Yeah."

"Fantastic! Let's start, then."

He clicked the appropriate button on the remote, and the previews started. The first was for another B-movie, centered around the Loch Ness monster...which they also happened to have.

"Well?"

"Thumbs down," Rose stated firmly, extending her left hand towards the screen. "Preview makes it look a lot better than it is."

"I agree." The Doctor's thumbs-down hand joined Rose's. "The music's bloody awful. Oh, now this one..." he added, as the second preview began, "Hmm. We don't have this one."

"Looks awful, though. Thumbs down."

"I disagree. Thumbs-up, and remind me to get this the next time we shop."

* * *

They had made it through the ritual of Preview Rating, and were a few minutes into the movie before Rose noticed how distracting it was feeling two heartbeats at her back. She wiggled slightly to get comfortable, and the Doctor looked down at her. "All right?"

"Yeah - 's just weird. You know. With the double heartbeat 'n' all."

"Ah. Here, let's try this."

With the arm that was around her waist, the Doctor lifted Rose, pulling her across his lap, to snuggle her securely in the crook of his left arm, with her head resting against his left shoulder. Her legs draped comfortably across his lap, and she reached down and adjusted the blanket.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks." It _was_ better, she thought. Not least because now both of his arms were wrapped around her, and she could feel his warmth through the thin silk of her pajamas.

The Doctor scooped up a kernel of popcorn that had fallen from the bowl in the process of the move...trying to ignore the fact that just one tiny move of his hand would brush his fingers under the hem of her pajama top, and bring him into contact with her skin... "Right then. Where were we?"

* * *

At some point, Rose had taken the popcorn bowl from her lap, and deposited it on their coffee table, along with the empty daiquiri glasses. With the bowl gone, she had snuggled down deeper into the Doctor's arms, and he had cuddled her willingly. By the end of the movie, she was leaning against his shoulder, his cheek resting against her head and her legs drawn up against his body. She was utterly warm and comfortable.

The credits rolled, and the screen went black, and yet neither of them moved. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?" His voice was lazy, but not sleepy. He was still awake.

"Movie's over."

"Dead brilliant, you are," he teased softly. "I think the remote's under your leg."

"Oh..." Rose squirmed to see. "Yeah, think you're right." She reached under, extracting the small plastic box. "Here."

Claiming his male right to operate the remote, the Doctor triumphantly pressed the power button, and the screen clicked off. He then tossed the remote over his shoulder, hearing it clatter on the floor, and returned his arm to where it had previously been wrapped around Rose.

She snuggled back against him. "Don't want to move."

"Me neither," he mumbled into her hair, leaning his face back into the rumpled blonde locks. "You smell so good."

"Mmm. Don't lick me, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered, with perfect truth. He'd never _dreamed_ of licking Rose.

Fantasizing was an entirely different animal.

Rose felt a tickle on her bare arm, and looked down, to see the Doctor's fingers idly drifting up and down her bicep. She smiled, closing her eyes and leaning back into his shoulder, content to just let him do what he was doing.

The air felt heavy. The Doctor's vision felt fuzzy, and his limbs felt like he was moving through water: all soft and slow. As he stroked Rose's arm and felt her cuddle into him, warm and trusting, he couldn't remember any of his reasons for not having done this before. This was the natural progression of things, right? Acquaintance blossomed into friendship. Friendship turned into best friendship. Best friendship...between two attractive people, well-matched in every way, spending day in and day out together, saving each other's lives...well, now, that gradually turned into...

He couldn't think the word yet. Couldn't even say it to himself.

Instead, his hand slipped up her arm and down onto her back, his long palm moving in warm circles over the smooth surface of her silky T-shirt. Gently, his fingers dug into the muscles there, prodding at the knots between her shoulder blades and easing them into relaxation.

Rose moaned, low in her throat. The sound echoed in the room.

"Doctor?"

"Shhh. Just relax."

_He's rubbing my back. He's _rubbing_ my _back! _What do I do?_

The answer, when it came, was obvious. _Shut up and enjoy it, love._

And Rose did.

She moaned occasionally, as his fingers discovered a particularly sore spot, but other than that, she was quiet. Soon, his other hand joined the first, all ten fingers working together to chase her tension away. She hadn't had a good backrub in ages...and she was so relaxed, she almost missed it when the Doctor's hands gently skimmed the hem of her shirt up, and smoothed over the bare skin beneath. Her breath stuck in her throat as she realized.

He gently stroked her, waiting to see what she'd do. The ball was in her court. Would she tell him to stop?

She didn't. Instead, she made another one of those little moans low in her throat that were progressively driving him crazy, and turned her head further into his neck. Her breath tickled his skin, setting his hearts pounding.

He abandoned the backrub in favor of just feeling her skin against his hands. Minutes passed in silence as he touched her.

Finally, Rose couldn't stand it any longer. She looked up at him - her cheeks flushed, breath coming short, eyes sparkling. She'd never looked more beautiful to him. _I want him so badly right now._

And before the thought was over, before she'd even finished the mental sentence, her body jerked forward. Her lips met the Doctor's clumsily - it wasn't beautiful, it wasn't soft or gentle. Just the instinctive act of a body that had finally had enough of telling its instincts to shut up.

A second into the kiss, Rose realized what she was doing. She backed off an inch or two, her eyes still closed, breathing shallowly. She could feel herself shaking in terror.

_Oh God, what have I done?_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Not the end, not the end! One more chapter to go! But, since I'm off for Thai food and wine with a friend tonight, I thought I'd leave you all something to enjoy. The sort of dreamy scene at the end is the literary equivalent of a strategic camera zoom-out...but if anyone would like the, um, more mature version of the scene, I should have it on A Teaspoon and an Open Mind within the next couple days. -Love, PC_

* * *

The Doctor could feel Rose trembling in his arms, in the split second after her clumsy kiss. More than the trembling, he could feel the fear behind it: the fear that she'd just done something wrong, something that would totally change their relationship forever. Maybe she was right; maybe things would change now. But it wouldn't be a bad change, if he had anything to say about it.

Which, in fact, he did. Whatever he did next was going to spell out their future. If he backed away, they'd stammer things like "Sorry" and "It's all right", and they'd muck along their merry way, denying everything that was between them.

Not much fun, come to think of it.

So instead, he chose Option B. And leaned forward.

The touch of his lips on hers, if it hadn't set off some sort of explosion somewhere, had come darned close - both the Doctor, and Rose, actually thought they felt the floor of the TARDIS rumble gently beneath them. This time it was beautiful. This time it was soft, and gentle - at least for about three seconds. At that point, the hunger overcame them both, and their kiss changed from soft and gentle, tentative even, to something beyond either's control. This kiss was wild, desperate, lips pressing frantically against each other, tongues pushing roughly into the other's mouth. The Doctor's hand shoved into Rose's hair, holding her head firmly in place as he kissed her.

They finally came up for air, and Rose's eyes drifted open, filled with a heavy, glazed look. She reached up and traced the Doctor's distinctly swollen lips with the tip of her finger. "Right proper snog, that was," she murmured.

"Quite right, too," he murmured back, smiling and leaning his forehead against hers. "Never say that I didn't learn anything over the past 900 years."

She smiled back, closing her eyes - with him being so close, after all, it was difficult to see anything but a blurry field of pale skin. "Doctor? What..."

"What happens now?" he finished. "Well, the way I see it, we have three options."

"And what are they, then?"

He backed off slightly, wrapping his arms firmly around Rose to reassure her. "Option one, we can stop right now, and you can go to bed, and I can go tinker with the TARDIS for awhile, and we can pretend it never happened." Capturing her mouth again with a long, firm kiss, he demonstrated his opinion of that option - "Not bloody likely," would have been a good way of verbally putting it.

Rose was properly dazed when he finally finished. "Huh. What's option two, then?"

"Ah, option two. Option two, is that we don't stop now, but in the morning, we agree that it would be a bad idea to continue. And while we don't pretend it never happened, we decide that it can never happen again."

Rose bit her lip. "Doesn't sound much different than option one."

"Nope."

"Doesn't sound like much fun, either. Sounds like a right bad idea, really."

"I'm just trying to make sure we consider everything," he protested. "You haven't heard option three yet."

"All right - but it'd better be better than one and two."

"Option three..." he paused dramatically, "...is that we don't stop. And don't ignore it. Instead...we enjoy. And we see what happens. Dunno about you, but I'm right sick of dancing around you pretending that you're just another companion to me."

Rose was flabbergasted. She had no idea what had changed his mind so much..._maybe it'd be a good idea to ask? It's an important question. _So she asked.

"Doctor...I've just got to know...I mean, you're talking so different now. Different than even a week ago. What changed? What happened to change your mind?"

He paused, considering, knowing it was important for her to know. Reflexively, he hitched her up on his lap, drawing her closer to him. Despite his volatile exterior, he didn't want to make her think that his feelings for her were as volatile. She'd had to go through the trauma of seeing his face change once - and might very well have to again - and he needed to find something to say that would cement what they had.

For better or for worse, though...the only answer he could come up with was the honest one.

"I don't know," he said softly. "Everything tonight, I think. Just being with you, quiet, like this. Nothing to run from or save, no distractions...just you. And me. Us. Better with two." He paused again. "Better with _you._"

It wasn't a very good answer, as answers went. But Rose was willing to take what she could get. So instead of trying to talk more, she found a better use for her mouth: kissing the Doctor again, with all the love and relief in her heart that finally, their crazy dance of denial was over.

When they reluctantly parted - a few inches, anyway - the Doctor gently stroked her face. "It's late. You look tired."

Rose blinked. "Is this...is this option one, then?"

"What? No! Sorry. No, it's not option one. I just thought...maybe..." He looked down shyly, then back up. "I thought you might want a change of scenery tonight?"

At her wide eyes, he had to laugh. "No! No! I'm not doing this very well, am I? I just mean that...we don't have to do anything more tonight, we've got loads of time for that sort of thing...but I'd very much like it if you stayed with me tonight. In my bed. In my room."

She _was_ tired. And it _was_ late. And the thought of having another warm body in the bed, being able to sleep wrapped comfortably in his arms...she wanted him, yes, but as he'd pointed out, there was plenty of time for that.

She smiled at him, and stood up, momentarily ignoring his look of surprise. Instead, she held her hands out to him where he still sat on the couch.

"Lead the way, Doctor."

* * *

Rose had never before contemplated how a room with relatively few things in it could also manage to look hopelessly cluttered. Now she had her answer.

The Doctor was moving around, madly throwing socks and underwear into a hamper, and muttering something about apologizing for the mess. Rose giggled, and he shot her a look. "Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to be entertaining in here!"

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Huge bed. For someone whose normal habit, so far as she knew, was to sleep alone, he did have rather a large bed...yet somehow, she wasn't surprised. She reached out, stroked the sheets with one tentative finger - soft. Very soft. Buttery smooth, in fact.

Looking back up, she saw that the Doctor had shucked his bathrobe and turned out all of the lights in the room except for a small lamp by the bed. He came over to sit beside her, looking about as nervous as she felt.

They sat and looked at each other. She would never be sure afterwards who had done it, but after a minute or so, one of them chuckled. Then the other. Chuckles escalated into full-blown, borderline-hysterical laughter, effectively dispelling the tension in the room.

Still laughing, the Doctor shook his head and reached out his arms. "Come here."

She went willingly, and he enfolded her in a strong hug. In the process, he leaned them both back on the bed, squirming around to get them both under the covers and in proper placement on the pillows. While it wasn't the most efficient way of getting into bed, it worked - Rose lay on her left side, with the Doctor securely spooned up against her back. He reached over her to turn the lamp off, and then snuggled back down, his breath warm on her neck, arm warm on her waist.

"Sleep well, Rose Tyler."

* * *

_He wakes. His innate sense of time tells him that three hours or so have passed since they curled up together and were dead to the world. He looks down, gazing happily upon her sleeping features, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek and leaning down to kiss the place where it had been._

_Knowing that if he stays in bed, he will doubtlessly wake her, he unwillingly moves to get up. She has other ideas, though, and whimpers, curling herself against him in protest. He sighs and smiles - apparently he is stuck. _

_He settles back down, adjusting his body slightly, and in the process, his hand on Rose's stomach slides upward. He freezes. She stretches against him, making a sleepy sound of contentment, nestling herself more into his hand. _

_She is soft. So soft. _

_Cautiously, he leans down, kissing her neck, unsure whether she is awake or just somehow feeling his touch in her sleep. She makes another of those contented sounds, and he kisses again. And again. Slowly. Gently._

_Her eyes open. She's awake - she sees him. Feels his touch._

_She rolls over, winding her arms around his neck, twining her legs with his. Pulling his mouth down to hers._

_This is what she wants. This is what he wants. _


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: And here it is, final chapter. Again I'd like to thank Jenni/more-than-words for the inspiration to write this one...swimming around in all the memories has been fun! Also thanks muchly to all of my wonderful reviewers who have provided much encouragement. I have another little plot bunny hopping around in my head, but I'm being bugged to finish my work-in-progress "Labyrinth" fic first! After that though, I'll probably be sending the Doctor off on another adventure. Thanks again, everyone! Oh, and look for the whole story, missing scene included, up on Teaspoon later tonight. Love, PC._

* * *

She woke up slowly, her eyes drifting open as she idly wondered what time it was, and realized that it really didn't matter. Rose smiled inwardly. _So much for feeling guilty about staying up most of the "night"._

There was a heavy, warm weight around her waist, and a glance down confirmed that it was the Doctor's arm. He was still asleep, snoring lightly next to her head, and - she couldn't help laughing softly - a tiny wet patch on the pillow beneath his mouth. _Blackmail!_

Rose stretched, not entirely surprised as various muscles protested. Throughout the time they'd been in bed, there had been at least three cycles of sleeping, waking, sleeping... She smiled again.

Carefully rolling over, mindful of both her sore limbs and her sleeping lover, she turned to face the Doctor. Lightly, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, planting a kiss in the center. He smiled in his sleep, inhaling deeply as he shifted and snuggled deeper into the pillows, stretching his arms over his head.

When his eyes opened - in response to more kisses - and he saw her, Rose was happily relieved to see a look of contentment in them. A small part of her had been afraid that he'd feel guilty about their activities of the past several hours...

"Hello Rose," he said softly.

"Hello Doctor," she answered. A small giggle escaped her lips.

"What's funny?" He tightened the arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him.

"You. When you sleep. You didn't move much when you were regenerating, an' I've never seen you sleep besides that. Didn't know that you snored...or drooled."

"I do _not_ snore! As for drooling, I won't even dignify it with a response," he asserted, managing to look amused and offended at the same time.

"Okay then...never mind that you wouldn't actually know, since you can't watch yourself sleep...OI! Not fair!"

The Doctor had decided that enough was enough, in terms of fair play, and begun tickling her. As they thrashed among the bedcovers, tangling themselves hopelessly, Rose winced aloud, and the Doctor instantly stopped, looking contrite.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you."

"Nah, 's'not that...I'm just..." She refused to meet his eyes, her cheeks staining red. "I'm a bit sore, is all."

If creating a facial expression to embody the phrase, "Stroked Male Ego" had been an Olympic sport...the Doctor would have been reigning champion. Rose was amused.

Once the Doctor had wiped the grin off his face, he managed to look somewhat apologetic. "Maybe some breakfast would help?"

She grinned back at him. "Could, at that."

"Worth a try, anyway. Now...where are my clothes?"

* * *

They made breakfast together, in a typical morning-after silliness fashion. There was laughter and teasing. There were kisses, many kisses, stolen at inconvenient moments, especially when the Doctor was attempting to flip the intricately shaped pancakes that Rose had poured out. They sat close together at the table, feeding each other bites of breakfast, and drinking from one another's tea mugs.

Rose was very glad it was just the two of them on board. Anyone else watching would probably have thrown up.

When breakfast was over, by tacit agreement, they showered separately and met in the control room. By the time Rose got there, the Doctor was leaning nonchalantly against the central column, looking mischievous.

"Uh-oh."

"What?" He raised his hands in defense. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I know that look. It's the, "Rose, the TARDIS navigation has malfunctioned a bit again, and instead of the relaxing learning experience I promised you, we're going to in all likelihood be running for our lives, that is if we've not already been arrested."

The Doctor pouted. "I never "promise"."

"Might as well."

He grinned. "But the rest is right. I meant for us to go witness the day that humanity first achieved interstellar flight...but I'm afraid I undershot a bit."

"Dangerous?"

"Oh yes."

"Exciting?"

"Without doubt."

She glanced down at the floor, then peeped up at him shyly from beneath her lashes. "Better with two?"

In answer, the Doctor walked around the control column, grasping Rose's hand firmly where it rested at her side. "Better with _you."_

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He paused before answering. "I'm scared that I'm going to lose you...just when I've finally found you properly."

"Doctor...it might be fun to stay in the TARDIS forever, just the two of us, but we'd get bored. Much better to be out there travelin' and seein' things, experiencin' life! That's what you've taught me, anyway. And yeah - eventually we'll lose one another. No point in denying that. But until then, let's have a fantastic life, all right?"

The fearful tinge to his eyes gradually disappeared, and he leaned down for a quick, small kiss that was a far better reply to her than any words. She grinned at him, and they headed for the TARDIS door.

Exit Rose and the Doctor, center stage, into day one of a fantastic life together.


End file.
